


Masterpiece

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Roanoke
Genre: 1800s Aristocracy, And Edward is pleased, In which Guinness is a piece of art and also creates art, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Public Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8363833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: Guinness is one of Edward's most favored pieces of art.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First in the fandom wassup  
> Alternatively I have to do everything myself in this house smh

Guinness' life had been wrought with hardship, and coming under ownership of the young aristocrat was one of the most fortunate experiences of his time. Edward was not kind, nor merciful, but he was easy to serve. It was amusing how impressed Edward was at a practiced skill of Guinness'. His art was not anything but simple and realistic, but Edward's eyes had blazed, alight with excitement, when he'd discovered Guinness sketching in the kitchen of his Boston home one evening. An apology flew from Guinness' lips, his hands fluttering over his papers to gather them together. His graphite nib rolled off of the tabletop and made its descent to the floor with an audible sound. 

Edward, draped in a dressing gown, knelt to retrieve it. He held the little pen out to Guinness, a wry smile crossing his lips and alighting there. Guinness accepted it hesitantly, then inclined his upper body, moving to take his leave. The aristocrat's voice cut through the air, raising gooseflesh on Guinness' arms. 

"Wait! Come back."

He had taken his tea there, perched upon a worker's stool, and watched Guinness drawing with eyes of a hawk. Guinness' drawing was markedly less succinct than usual. He found himself a little nervous under the piercing state of his master. 

When he deemed the work finished, Edward had stroked over a line with reverent grace. Tea abandoned, the aristocrat's eyes flitted up to meet Guinness', a heat untamed within them. The sketch was of the house planned for Carolina, it's visage charming in Guinness' point of view. Edward was enthralled. 

From thus forward, Edward loved to watch Guinness work. To see inspiration flow from the tip of his goat-hair brush, to Edward, was the work of a god. Guinness himself was a piece of art. A masterpiece. 

Edward could not get enough of him.

He wanted to have him, to be with him, to collect him. And he did. 

Guinness couldn't find it within him to want to resist. He had a new medium to work with, for the aristocrat was putty in his hands-- a clay malleable to the touch. His master was all lofty attitudes in public, but awed behind closed doors. He continuously made demands to be drawn in the nude, and Guinness obliged. Such sessions frequently resulted in paints and other such materials staining clothes and skin, of brushes cast aside and pieces abandoned, incomplete. 

Edward's appetite for art and lovemaking was insatiable. Guinness found himself often pried from his duties in favor of bestowing more personal attentions upon his master. Their first "I love you"s were spoken into each other's necks, Guinness' weight pressing Edward to the plush carpet of the Boston home's art studio, an easel and canvas standing forgotten above them. 

When Edward sent Guinness off before him to Carolina in order to watch over his collection, the wait was crippling. Guinness' bottomless well of inspiration seemed to have gone dry upon lack of muse. His fingers itched to create, but each piece came out slightly off. The servant blamed his absent master. No matter, he had other duties to attend to. Guinness found working without the motivation of Edward's closeness to be a bore.

Edward's arrival with the last of his collection was, to put it lightly, like the coming of a god. Guinness felt liked a caged tiger throughout the day scheduled for his master to step foot onto his Carolina property for good. His nerves were tight, his stomach a lead knot of anxiety. 

The carriage pulled by opulent horses finally barreled up the way, and when Edward made his way out of the carriage, Guinness was there, taking Edward's elbow lightly to guide him down the step onto the drive. The first words the aristocrat spoke were orders his tone clipped and weary from travel. Guinness could not help but to feel slightly put off, but those words rang in his ears as he made to move away.

"Wait! Come back."

Then Edward's fingers were fisted in the collar of Guinness' shirt and they were together again, in front of the others without paying any mind. Guinness' hand came up to tangle in the back of that obnoxious powdered wig, holding Edward to him and kissing him fiercely. 

Edward pulled away, breathless and flushed, and smiled that light smile of his again. Guinness smiled back. He looked forward to christening the new house and it's furnishings, but for now, he had work to do.

They could be freely together here. They would be alone with the art here. It was all he wanted. He could tell, this property would be the life of them.


End file.
